


silence

by lunar_fey



Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Character Study, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Plant horror, it's not vividly detailed though, no ones here for very long tho :'), there's various gore, this is kind of a bad end fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:06:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26660362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunar_fey/pseuds/lunar_fey
Summary: sometimes. you have to write angst about little space blobs. im just saying.He remembers their fight, not knowing what to do, for once. But Lime came back to him, then. He only had to be patient.He remembers the fucking3am snack, the spores.The conversations about their humanity.He remembers it all.
Relationships: Lime & Purple (Among Us)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	silence

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to my friend, the creator of Lime (as used in this fic)!! uhhhh not much to say! please read the tags and enjoy :)

His life flashes before his eyes; what little of it he knows. He has no memories of before - no, that's not quite right. Yes, if he focuses he can just about see something, a face perhaps. Perhaps not. But he's not that man anymore, not sure he's a "man" at all now. There are vines in his throat and roots in his brain. He hasn't taken a breath in however long he's been here (and how long  _ has _ he been on this god forsaken ship, he wonders - not long  _ enough _ , he thinks, for this), and he's only eaten corpses.

It hurts to realize he wouldn't be pondering his humanity, before, and then it doesn't anymore, just like always.

Of course he remembers their first meeting. He's never been the best at telling time, but how could he  _ forget _ ? He'd had Lime figured out, but it didn't matter to him. Nothing mattered to him, then.

But Lime had figured  _ him _ out, somehow -

In the end, he can't be sure what it was that turned the situation. The spores? His size, towering over the other? Perhaps he could simply tell Purple wasn't a threat to him.

Now he'll never know.

He is not dying, no, but he may as well be. He is staring through the window at the body of his friend - and what a human word, that - getting farther and farther away.

_ Feeling _ it, too, somehow - and that only makes it worse. How long will he be  _ alive _ out there? Would it be better if it were a long time? Or worse?

Still, their time together flashes before his eyes. The times they'd nearly been caught but  _ hadn't _ , the jokes at his own expense - they never  _ really _ pissed him off but he'd come to find acting that way came so naturally he didn't have to fake it.

He remembers their fight, not knowing what to do, for once. But Lime came back to him, then. He only had to be patient.

He remembers the fucking  _ 3am snack _ , the spores.

The conversations about their humanity.

He remembers it all.

The crew - all save for White - try to comfort him. How could he have known? It's not his fault, they say.

Get some rest, one tells him as he stands there, staring. Somehow more blank than ever.

He doesn't sleep. If he ever relaxed with Lime - well, he can't relax  _ now _ . No one's watching his back. But he does goto his quarters.

He sits.

It is  _ quiet _ . He prefered quiet, once. But now it seems like something he cannot abide.

All at once something breaks in him - something goes terribly, mortally  _ wrong _ , and he can feel. It all comes crashing over him, like everything he's suppressed is coming out at once. No amount of being human could help him put a name to the feeling, though - anger, and hatred, and fear, and desperation - every awful thing bundled in a nice little package, just for him.

And it's so. Goddamned.  _ Quiet _ .

There are vines in his lungs but he tries his damndest to scream. As he opens his mouth the only thing that comes out are those vines, and it feels like some kind of sick joke. He tries, but his throat cannot move, and his lungs cannot press air to his mouth.

So what can he do but what he has always done - wait?

Yes, he will wait, because he is not the chaser.

No one checks in on him the rest of the evening, and he waits until he is sure every one of them is asleep.

It must be White first, of course. Perhaps he knows about Purple, perhaps he doesn't. But he is the one that cast suspicion on Lime. He is the one that convinced the rest of them he was a killer.

And yes, he was, but he didn't  _ want _ to be; had confessed his guilts to Purple, and proved it in action.

Perhaps this will make Purple a monster.

Why should he act human, now? Lime was as close to a human as the real thing, just trying to survive and, now?

Now he's walking down the hall, slow as ever. Silent as ever.

He gets to the door, and unlocks it with a practiced ease. This will go one of two ways for him.

He doesn't much care which one.

But White is asleep, and Purple doesn't find himself face to face with a weapon of any kind.

If he could smile, perhaps this is when he would.

He locks the door behind him and steps into the room.

And he lets go.

He doesn't need to  _ look _ human anymore, either.

The vines come from him painlessly.

Slowly, silently they move closer, closer, and once they meet their target - White's throat - they dig in.

Eyes shoot open instantly - Purple sees fear in them, and he has the inclination he'd like to glut himself on that. Hands grip his vines as White tries to yell.

Is this poetic justice? It certainly  _ feels _ like it.

The hands pull against his vines, but they are human hands.

Weak.

They sink ever deeper, instead, uncaring.

[You did this to yourself.] He takes his time with the signs, making sure the words sink in.

The vines can feel him, trying to scream. But they won't let him.

Too soon the struggle is over.

Very well. Purple leaves the room, far from satisfied. He closes the door behind him and breaks the lock.

On to O2. See - he couldn't do this before. Had tried once, but as it turned out, Lime still needed to breathe. Well, lucky for him, so does the rest of the crew.

He reaches the room and looks around.

If he's lucky, the sirens will bring the rest of the crew to him. They'll all know the mistake they made.

He fiddles with a panel here, a wire there - nothing that'll fuck them over immediately. And he listens. And he waits.

He can almost imagine he hears the crew, pounding on White's door. He's the one to fix these things, after all.

How long will they waste?

Not too long at all, it seems, as soon he hears rapidly approaching footfall.

Yellow, and Pink. They approach, arms out, voices soft. Like he's lost it. Like they're comforting a scared dog. Mm. No.

They don't get it.

_ They _ should be the scared dogs.

Purple reaches his hands up to his helmet and unlocks it. Just before he pulls it off, he holds up a finger. Yellow and Pink are visibly nervous now, glancing at each other and starting to move backward. He presses something on his tablet and the doors seal with a loud hiss.

The two jump at the sound, running to the door like they can unlock it quickly enough to matter.

Purple wishes he could laugh as he steps toward them. Finally, they turn back to him, hurt and fear on their faces in equal measure.

"Why are you doing this?" Yellow asks, their voice only shaking a little.

[Your fault,] he replies, [you should've let us be,] before reaching up to finally take off his helmet.

Pink slides down the wall in fear while Yellow presses their back against the door, eyes searching for any escape.

It won't be found today.

The vines start wrapping around both of them, leg first, to hold them still.

They both try to fight it of course, but neither can, and soon the vines close around Yellow's throat. He doesn't even let their arms free to claw at the vines as he lets them crawl ever tighter.

His attention turns back to Pink, on the floor, crying, and decides he would like to hear at least  _ one _ person scream tonight, even if it cannot be himself.

A vine tightens around a shoulder just as another starts pulling at a leg. The screaming starts quickly, and doesn't end until a handful of vines manage to rip their head apart.

He is a bit more satisfied at this, and some of the vines return, to feed his roots, and that's nice.

But he isn't finished either. The O2 alarm has stopped, but that won't kill the rest of the crew right away. Anyone in their suits with tanks would be fine, at least for some time longer.

Just as well, he thinks.

He should never have made Lime do so much of the dirty work in the first place. Maybe then….

He heads back for White's room, curious if anyone got it open.

As he enters the hallway, however, there stands Blue, in her suit, a knife in her hands.

He looks past her to confirm that, yes, she (or someone) had gotten White's door open.

Good.

She's fast, and she has the knife in him before he can react - but she misses anything vital. The vines wrap around the blade, and he shoves her back.

Her grip doesn't hold up to the vines, and the knife is left behind.

Purple takes the knife into a hand thoughtfully. Blue tries to run in the other direction, but she can't get far. Purple is slow, but his gait is long.

He catches up and grabs her by the shoulder, turning her around. It's different, when she struggles against him. Different than fighting with the vines.

Still - Purple's much larger, much stronger. He overpowers her and drives the knife into her chest.

[That's how you kill someone with a knife,] he signs, pulling the knife back out, and passing it to a vine.

If Blue tries to say something in return, it is too thickly coated in blood to make sense to him.

He watches her die, and then he walks away.

None of the other bodies he finds are still alive, and yes, a quick check at vitals confirms he is the only thing left alive here.

He returns to the room where the decision had been made, and he sits in front of the large window he had watched Lime float away in.

Why hadn't he done all this then? Why had he just watched as the crew grabbed his  _ friend _ and threw him out? Some kind of self preservation instinct?

What life was he trying to preserve? What life does he have, now, alone out here? He could call for help, wait for someone to come aboard and take a new host - but the comms aren't sign friendly, now are they?

Someone will call in, eventually, unless he keeps sending reports.

Until then all he can do is wait here, and soak in the silence.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for gettin this far! leave a kudos if you liked, and a comment if you please! it means a lot!


End file.
